


Lost Boys Like Me

by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee



Series: True Love or Something [10]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family, Gen, Keith and Shiro are Siblings, M/M, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:38:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8891026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee/pseuds/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee
Summary: When Shiro was sixteen he promised his eight-year-old brother something. 	“Keith, you know you can ask my anything, ok?  Anything at all and I’ll always tell you the truth.”  	“Anything?  Like, where do babies come from and is Santa real and is mom crazy and do woodchucks actually chuck wood?  Because I’ve never seen one do that.”  	“Ok.  I’ll tell you the truth if I know it.”  	“You know everything, Shiro, so it’s okay.”  	“…Do you really want to know where babies come from and if Santa’s real?”  	“Nah, but I am curious about the woodchucks thing.”  	Shiro has regretted that promise for seventeen years.  
Five times someone asked Shiro for advice.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO EVERYONE, THANK YOU, YOUR AMAZING COMMENTS GIVE ME LIFE. 
> 
> It's a short update today, a little light on the Klance but lots of Shiro being Shiro which should help make up for his glaring absence in earlier fics..
> 
> Anyway, sorry, I spent yesterday traveling (no wifi = no update yesterday) and I'm jet-lagged and exhausted so I'm very, very sorry if this is terrible or full of typos. I just wanted to do a quick update to help get back on schedule. 
> 
> This fic references earlier fics in the series such as 'Must Have Done Something Right' so reading those might give this one some context.

**Lost Boys Like Me**

            When Shiro was sixteen he promised his eight-year-old brother something.

            _“Keith, you know you can ask my anything, ok? Anything at all and I’ll always tell you the truth.”_

_“ **Anything**? Like, where do babies come from and is Santa real and is mom crazy and do woodchucks actually chuck wood? Because I’ve never seen one do that.” _

_“Ok. I’ll tell you the truth if I know it.”_

_“You know everything, Shiro, so it’s okay.”_

_“…Do you really want to know where babies come from and if Santa’s real?”_

_“Nah, but I am curious about the woodchucks thing.”_

            Shiro has regretted that promise for seventeen years.

 

  1. Keith



            “Shiro.”

            “Keith, I just got off a 12-hour shift from hell. If this isn’t important I may have to drive upstate just to kill you.”

            “Shiro.”

            “Keith.”

            “Shiro.”

            “Keith, you think I’m kidding about the murder, but I’ve had a really bad day.”

            “Shiro.”

            “I have been thrown up on three times, bled on more times than I can count, and had to wrangle bright-eyed, heinously incompetent interns all day. I’m tired and grouchy. I hate the ER.”

            “What a coincidence,” Keith laughs awkwardly and Shiro narrows his eyes. He knows that laugh. That’s little brother deflection laugh. That’s the laugh of a Keith who is about to try to make something incredibly concerning sound downright casual. “I just got back from the ER.”

            Yep. That’s concerning. And oh, look; Keith’s trying to act casual about it.

            Shiro, who had been sitting, exhausted, in his front entryway, pauses in his attempts to wrestle his shoes off one-handed, instead putting all his energy into clutching his phone and resisting the urge to bolt for the door and rush upstate immediately. Forget murdering his idiot brother, he has to make sure the kid’s all in one piece.

            And once he’s done that he might have to kill the brat for being so cavalier about it.

            “Are you still in the hospital? Did they admit you? What’s going on, Keith? Keith? Are you okay? Is someone there with you? Let me talk to a doctor. Get me a doctor, now.”

            Shiro can practically _hear_ Keith rolling his eyes, “Calm down, I’m not at the hospital anymore.”      

            “ _Did you check yourself out, Keith Kogane, I swear to God –_ ”

            “I’m _fine,_ Shiro, it was no big deal, just a few stitches!”

            “ _Why did you need stitches_?” Shiro knows his voice is coming out strangled and high-pitched but that’s the price one has to pay to avoid shouting at their dumb little brothers when they pull stuff like this.

            “I got hit with a mailbox, it’s really not a big deal – ”

            “Not a big deal?!” Shiro may be having a hard time coping with his little brother no longer living in the same city as him, he’s so used to Keith always being around, there for him to keep out of trouble. He’d been supportive of the move – it was a good job with a good theatre and city life was killing Keith. The crush of people stacked upon people was making him feel smothered and stir-crazy. He’d been wilting like a plant deprived of sun crammed in here with millions of others.

            It was a good choice, the move. That doesn’t mean that Shiro doesn’t have to beat back the overwhelming urge to drive up every other day and fuss over his baby brother.

            (Shiro remembers when Keith was a baby – the first time he’d gotten to hold him, the vacant, utterly trusting look in those strange purple-blue eyes as baby Keith stared up at him.)

            Keith sighs, twenty-five and an adult (an adult who apparently can barely feed himself, but that’s another issue – Shiro’s starting to wonder if he needs to send a care package full of fresh fruit and vegetables to help his brother beat off scurvy). “I was getting the mail and my next door neighbor didn’t see me because I was wearing all black – shut up, I was coming from work – ”

            “Far be it from me to criticize your incredibly _emo_ tive wardrobe.”

            “It’s practical, black is a practical, mandatory color for backstage work – and you know what, shut up. Go back to being worried.”

            “No, please, go on with this story about how you almost died because of a wardrobe malfunction and a mailbox.”

            “I did not ‘almost die’ you drama queen. My neighbor didn’t see me and he crashed into me and I hit the mailbox with my face and needed five stitches. Oh, and I have a concussion – IT’S MILD, I CAN SENSE YOU TENSING UP, YOU FREAK. Yeah. Oh, and a date.”

            “How did you – you didn’t.”

            “I did.”

            “Keith, you…”

            “He’s cute!” Keith protests, and Shiro can imagine the awkward hand-waving his brother is doing as he tries to explain himself and his terrible life choices.

            “He ran into you. You needed stitches!”

            “He took me to the hospital! He told me dumb stories and made me laugh and filled out the stupid paperwork because I was holding gauze on my face to stop the bleeding. He’s just…I like him.”

            “You’re an idiot,” Shiro says because Shiro is supportive like that.

            “Shut up, this is a good idea.”

            “Whatever. You called for something? Because I know you’re not considerate enough to just give me a heads up that you were in the hospital.”

            “ _Were_ is the operative word here,” Keith points out oh-so-helpfully, “I _was_ in the hospital. And now I’m not.”

            “What do you want, kiddo? Other than to give me a heart attack.”

            A long pause as Keith stews in his own awkward juices. Shiro just waits him out like he did when they were kids.

            “…What do I do for this date?”

            Shiro is torn between laughing and groaning so he just cackles meanly. Keith huffs petulantly on the other end of the line and that just makes Shiro laugh more.

            “Shiro, come on! I need help!”

            “Fine, fine. Just…little brother has a _date_.”

            “ _Shiro_.”          

            “With a guy who hit him in the face with a _mailbox_.”

            “Technically, I hit the mailbox with my face,” Keith corrects huffily, “Are you going to be helpful or not?”

            “Fine, fine. I’ll help but I’m not letting this go.”

            “Okay, fine, whatever, just _help me_.”

 

  1. Lance



            “Hello?”

            “Hi, hello, how are you?”

            “Fine? Uh, who is this?” Shiro’s not in the habit of answering unknown number calls but with so much of Mom’s old stuff for sale on the internet now he’s been fielding a lot of calls from interested buyers.

            “Oh, Lance. It’s Lance. We met? You threatened me with bodily harm if I hurt your brother?”

            “I know who you are, Lance.” Well, now he did, “What can I do for you?”

            “So this is going to sound terrible and all I ask is you do not judge my worthiness as a human being based on this question.”

            “Okay?”

            “When is Keith’s birthday?”

            Shiro almost laughs; Lance sounds so uneasy. “December 21st. Why?”

            “Okay, good, okay, I’ve got some time,” Lance mutters and Keith has some explaining to do.

            “Can I ask what this is about?”

            “Uh, we’re still agreeing not to judge, right?”                  

            “Right…”

            “So I asked Keith when his birthday was and he told me September 31st.”

            “There isn’t a…”

            “I figured that out, thanks.”

            Shiro face-palms silently behind the phone. “And you freaked out because what if you missed his birthday.”

            “ _Exactly_.”

            “Sorry, Lance, I’m gonna have to hang up now so I can go call my baby brother an idiot.”

            “Cool. Go for it, man.”

…

            “Keith.”

            “Hi Shiro.”

            “For the record, when you asked me how to avoid having people make a big deal over your birthday and I said ‘just give them a fake date’, I was KIDDING. And even if I WASN’T kidding, I did NOT mean ‘lie to your gullible but well-meaning boyfriend who only wants you to be happy’.”

            “Huh.”

            “Yeah, ‘huh’. Talk to Lance, put him out of his misery. I’m pretty sure he’s worked himself up over whether or not he’s a good boyfriend.”

            “But he’s…perfect.” Keith sounds legitimately confused and it’s almost heartwarming.

            “Talk to your idiot.”

            “Okay, bye Shiro.”   

            “ _Goodbye_.”

 

  1. Pidge



            Shiro almost doesn’t answer the phone this time, he’s in the middle of cooking dinner and it’s his day off so he’s not expecting the hospital to call. There are other nurses whose Monday they can ruin. Not his. But it’s from Keith’s area code and that generally means that it’s Keith-related and the little brother always comes first.

            Shiro leaves the pasta to simmer and answers the phone.

            A confused babble of voices bubble up at the other end of the line and it takes a moment or two for them to resolve into something close to coherent. It’s Keith, but somewhere between strung-out-on-coffee-and-red-bull-Keith and three-drinks-into-a-fun-night-Keith. And Pidge, sounding high out of her mind. Which is probably (somehow?) where Keith is at right now too.

            They’re arguing about flying.

            "Like, would people be better off if they could fly?" Pidge asks, sounding wide-eyed and too serious.

"Save the planet - fly to work!" Keith suggests tipsily and they both explode into giggles.

"But really, would it be better?” Pidge sounds very concerned about this, “Or would traffic be worse? _Air traffic,_ Keith. Air _collisions_. How would...how would that _work_?"

" _We should make a chart."_ Keith is totally high, that’s the only explanation, Shiro decides.

"Infrastructure for flying people! Go team! Let’s make some traffic laws!" Pidge cheers vaguely.

“Oh, hey, Pidge, look, you called my bro. My brother-bro-Sheee-ro. We should ask him about the bird-people.”

“Cool, let’s do it! Heeeey, Shiro! What’re your thoughts,” she has to pause because both she and Keith are giggling again, “On flying people?”

            Shiro has no thoughts on flying people, although he has a lot about this particular situation. He figures he can fake it until Lance gets his SOS text and deals with these two morons.

 

  1. Lance II



            “Shiro.”

            Shiro has just gotten off the phone with the destructive duo. “What?”

            “So Keith brought home these leftover brownies from a cast party and Keith didn’t know, but apparently they had pot in them. A lot of pot. Keith and Pidge are high as kites. Completely accidentally, which makes this even funnier.”

            Shiro rolls his eyes. Great, just great.

            “So,” Lance continues, “How do Hunk and I keep them from building prototype wings and trying to fly?”

            “Keep them wrapped up in conspiracy theories until they fall asleep or it wears off.”

            “Awesome, thanks, man.”

            “And take video. Lots of video.”

 

  1. Keith II



            “Hey, Shiro?”

            Keith is visiting for the weekend. They’re sitting on the fire escape, their legs hanging over the edge, on a rusty precipice. It feels simultaneously precarious and safe, like they’re halfway between flying and sitting still, the material in-between.

            “Hey, Keith.”

            “Do you…” Keith pauses, not looking at him, brows folded together in concentration. He was always a serious child, passionate with a placid surface. Still waters run deep or something like that. There was always something rumbling beneath the surface and even Keith never completely understood what it was. Sometimes Shiro thinks it’s ironic how he traveled the world while Keith stayed still. It was always Keith who’d been restless. He’d been raised with an itch under his skin.

            “Do I what?”

            “Do you think there’s something missing in me?”

            Shiro frowns, “What do you mean?”

            “I mean…” Keith huffs in frustration, “I don’t always get it, okay? I don’t _get_ people, I don’t know how to read them. I don’t know…I don’t know how to be normal. I don’t know how to belong anywhere.” He snorts, self-deprecating, “I know, twenty-five’s a little late to give a shit about that, but still…”

            Shiro sighs and throws an arm around his brother’s neck, ruffling his hair, “Considering the group you’re trying to belong to, I don’t really think knowing how to be ‘normal’ is going to be all that relevant.”  
            Keith glare-frowns at him as only Keith can, “I didn’t say anything – ”

            “Yeah you did,” Shiro says easily, “It’s all there in the body language. And you don’t need to worry about knowing how to belong somewhere. You’re already there.”

            Keith doesn’t ask, but ‘are you sure’ is written all over his face.

            “Yeah, I’m sure, kid. You have a good life upstate. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

            “Thanks, Shiro.”

            “No, problem. Any question, remember?”

            “That’ll teach you to make dumb promises.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from 'Lost Boy' by Ruth B.


End file.
